


In the Blink of an Eye

by SegaBarrett



Category: Dexter (TV)
Genre: Gen, Season 7 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 08:41:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SegaBarrett/pseuds/SegaBarrett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>LaGuerta finds herself looking forward and back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Blink of an Eye

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CherryIce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryIce/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I don't own Dexter and I make no money from this.

They say that a person’s life flashes before their eyes right before the end, right before the curtain closes and there’s no more left to say. 

Captain Maria LaGuerta really wished that the flashing would settle down for a few minutes, to let herself more effectively plead her case to Lieutenant Morgan, who was standing in front of her with the barrel of a gun pointed at Dexter, but wavering, trying to feel out a new target, a different solution. 

Every time LaGuerta’s voice asked, she got a second of false hope that this time, her plea would convince Debra to pull the trigger on Dexter, and end this once and for all. As much as LaGuerta wanted the killing to end, didn’t want to see Dexter slump in front of her… the killing would only stop with Dexter’s death. If they put him in prison, she had a feeling the prison overcrowding problem would die down significantly.

“Debra, do it. This isn’t you.” She let the words fall from her lips but she was detached from them. She was almost certain she knew the choice Debra would make, the choice Debra had already made – it wasn’t as if she didn’t understand it. Or maybe she didn’t.

***

“And who are you?”

“M-Maria LaGuerta, señor.” She tried to stand up on her tip-toes, but at nine, she still only went up to the man’s stomach. 

“You’ll have to learn English,” the man looking at her grumbled, before sending her off into some room where it seemed like someone had gone in and sucked out all of the air. She wished her parents had come on the boat ride too, but they’d had to stay behind. She still didn’t understand why, or why they would send her to this scary new place all alone. The man from before was on the phone, and she could hear him talking. “Get Child and Youth Services over here. See if you can track down any family. If not, it’s foster care for this one, too.”

***

She had thought she’d had it all worked out, that she would finally catch Dexter in the act. But it all seemed to keep getting away from her as the barrel seemed to inch closer and closer, as if it was making the decision more than Debra was. 

LaGuerta kept up her rationalizing, because she couldn’t give up, wasn’t going to give up, because giving up was not what she did.

Dexter was silent, and she hated that – wasn’t he even going to plead for his own life, or did he care as little about that as he did about the people he had killed? Yes, there had been murderers, and yes in some sort of sick twisted fantasy that made sense, but what about James? James had been innocent; he had just been a good cop.

He had been _right_. He had been right and LaGuerta had brushed it off as paranoia. She was kicking herself now, but she wished she could be kicking Dexter instead, maybe if she found the strength to get up, she could break the hold he had on Debra, the hold she could tell was pushing her hands, her gun, ever so slightly in LaGuerta’s direction, whispering how easy it would be to do this his way. Debra was looking at her with glassy, tearstained eyes and she wanted to tell her that if she did this, it would haunt her for the rest of her life. 

But the other choice would, too.

***

She had always liked the way Doakes acted when he was looking at her, the way he leaned forward and chuckled even when the smile didn’t quite meet his eyes. There was darkness in him, that was true, there were things that he had seen that she would never know about and knew better to ask about. But she had always known, unshakably, that he was good, deep down.

She remembered the first time that they had met, when the Lieutenant at the time had marched in, leading her by an unseen string and brusquely declared, “Doakes, here’s your new partner, LaGuerta.” She’d heard more than a few barely-muffled remarks about her having a nice ass, but Doakes had given her a look up and down before some kind of short nod.

He wasn’t appraising merchandise; he was trying to sum her up as a person. 

She’d gotten a weird feeling in her throat as she found herself hoping that she passed.

***

 _Doakes._ The name ran down her spine again as she stared back at Debra; her voice kept pleading but her mind was somewhere else as she came to grips with the fact that she would, in all likelihood, soon be joining him.

And what about Angel? Her Angel… Sure, their marriage hadn’t lasted more than a year, and it had been fraught with fights and complications and workplace drama, but he she still… there was something there that would always survive, a kind of deep, impenetrable friendship that crept in now, shattering her heart as she pictured him arriving to the scene to find her with a bullet to her chest, or not find her at all, only hear that she vanished into thin air like any Bay Harbor Butcher victim. Maybe they’d find her at the bottom of the ocean too.

Had it all been worth it?

“Debra. Put him down.”

What was she pleading for? The look in Debra’s eyes made it clear that she had made up her mind the second she had pulled out the gun. Between Dexter and LaGuerta, LaGuerta had to go any time… That had to be the mechanism working behind her eyes, didn’t it? She couldn’t blame her, not really, but if there was an ounce of strength left in her, maybe she could stand and look her straight in the eye and say something, do something that would turn the gears in the opposite direction.

She closed her eyes a split second and thought of Angel. 

***

She could remember that conversation with Debra. She’d asked about Dexter, how Debra’s father had adopted him, brought him home and raised him as one of the family.

LaGuerta had been thinking about the Cuban orphan, the seven-year-old boy who had been the only witness to the murder of his captors, such a shaken little boy, all alone in a strange land, and he had seemed to be drawn to LaGuerta, like he needed her. She had felt like she needed him too, had begun to picture returning home each night to ask him what he had done in school that day, who his friends were and what color he liked best, hugging him and reading him bedtime stories, something to keep her grounded besides this goddamned job and the politics and the gray morality that threatened to send them all under even though they were supposed to be the good guys.

This kid had more good in him than anyone LaGuerta had ever known, and she wanted to nurture that, to watch him grow and learn, to have the chances that she hadn’t, to learn the lessons she had found out with foster parents and dumped in group homes with no one to tell her they were proud of her or to say that they worried when she’d decided to become a cop.

This kid would have someone worrying about him, this kid would have someone loving him…

And then they’d found the boy’s uncle and as quickly as the dream had begun, it had been over. LaGuerta had told herself it was for the best. She was barely busy enough to do the piles of work Miami Metro left for her, let alone raise a child, and she thought maybe that would ease the gnawing in her heart.

It hadn’t.

***

Finally the monster spoke.

“It’s true, everything she said – you’re a good person.” Dexter was agreeing with LaGuerta in his words but it was as if he was pulling puppet strings, and LaGuerta had to wonder how far back it went, just how long he had been able to control her. Not just her – everyone. Miami Metro had been a tiny little snowglobe for Dexter Morgan to shake, a puzzle for him to rearrange. 

She had missed it for so long, had been so blind, everyone had been so blind and if this night ended this way, they would all go back to being Dexter’s pawns. Everyone who knew the truth had been slowly eliminated.

 _James, oh God James… That cabin. Burned and disgraced and…_ Nothing could be worse than that. 

She thought of weekends with Angel and Audie, their little family on those days when things had been going well, those days when they walked by and people assumed she was Audie’s mother, smiled at her and complimented her on such a smart little girl.

It had been a year since she had seen her. Did Audie even remember her now?

Would anyone remember her?

She tried to rise up on her feet; maybe if she could run… but everything was so hazy, so blurry.

“Do what you gotta do.”

Dexter with his arms wide, inviting her to shoot, knowing she wouldn’t.

LaGuerta turned her head to the side with what felt like monumental effort.

Her gun was lying right there; it was lying right there and all she had to do was to grab it in her hands; if she grabbed it then that meant back to Miami Metro back to Angel back to Audie back to maybe, maybe a child greeting her when she got home, maybe someone smiling and wrapping his arms around her, maybe… maybe James Doakes being exonerated. 

Fuzzy reds and blues, the room was so red and it hurt. Her life was still flashing before her eyes but the gun stayed static, stayed permanent, and one hand slipped out ahead of the other and grappled. 

Debra turned in a split second with the gun and LaGuerta ducked. 

_Grab… gun… pull… trigger… go…_ The gun was so heavy, too heavy and Debra was sobbing and LaGuerta was back at the day she and James Doakes had been out on the rifle range, taking aims at targets on the police range.

“You know, Maria, there’s something about you... Like you won’t give up no matter what it takes, until you get what you want. I don’t know whether that’s a good or a bad thing.”

LaGuerta hadn’t given him a response, just simply taken aim and fired, lodging her bullet directly in the target’s chest. The gun shot seemed deafening.

She’d smiled as she’d walked away.

“I guess you’ll just have to find out.”


End file.
